


"don't go wasting your emotions" [lay all your love on me]

by nahobitogay



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Heavy Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Post-Canon, Short One Shot, Will Needs a Hug, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nahobitogay/pseuds/nahobitogay
Summary: they only asked for a chunk of his humanity, but it wasn't long before Will realized they took everything.[or Will is truly heartbroken]
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Kudos: 7





	"don't go wasting your emotions" [lay all your love on me]

It’s quick.

He hears " _stop, stop!_ ", Tom's frantic, panicked voice that rings in his ears and the scream the pierces the air right after. Will snaps his neck and before he knows what's gong on, his hands are moving, shooting the German twice before dropping his weapon. He pauses for a moment, completely still in fear, confusion, and _just not_ _yet there_ unlike his instincts. The blood that flows keeps him frozen as though the fluid itself is a trance until Tom’s ragged breaths tell him to _move quickly_.

Tom’s hands are quick as so his legs when they become too weak to stand. Will’s on his knees, holding him like he’s afraid to lose everything right now (he’s afraid). He’s never been the one to be scared of death, but, at this moment, he’s staring at it in the eyes. And it’s not here for him.

”Tell me you know the way,” Tom cries.

Will wants to tell him he loves him but instead forces his lips to say, “I know the way”.

And, slowly, Tom’s dying in his arms, eyes fluttering into the empty darkness, not another word from his dry mouth.

Will looks at him properly, probably trying to imagine Tom without his soon-to-be death. Those sky eyes, beautiful like the bare color of blue—Will is more than simply intrigued with it.

And then, the blue vanishes.

Soon enough, Will has realized he’s met a lot of life changing experiences, yet he’s still in the blood soaked uniform in the dreadful, cold weather: He’s met a fair, strong French with a baby in a dark basement. He has realized he’s ran from German bullets; he outran death again and his head violently throbs at his forbidden escape.

Will realizes he’s jumped off a bridge. Tom crosses his mind then.

And when he’s snapped back to reality, he’s still in the icy cold water, surrounded by what seems to be white blossoms. Even drenched in water the blossoms feel so precious in his dirty, sore hand with not even a tiny piece of its exquisite form taken, at all.

Will drops the blossom when he’s met with floating bodies. At their contact, Will yanks himself away in fear and shock but finds himself shamefully climbing over them to land. And when his body is dripping his tears drip, too. Will’s broken voice is forced to play along, wondering, wondering: _Why are you doing this to me?_

No one answers him; he hears singing instead.

He’s running to Colonel Makenzie even when the bombs drop and the voices scream. The fear in his heart explodes; Will is thinking of nothing but Tom (and the Devons), then. A soldier knocks him clean off his feet but Tom’s right over on the other side, waiting with that stupid, large grin of his and suddenly Will’s back to running, even when it happens again, as though testing his limits. But Will knows a small burn won’t kill him.

Fortunately, he’s on time and the call is called off. Will is more exhausted than he’s ever been in all his life, but that doesn’t make him collapse just yet.

”Lieutenant Blake? Has anyone seen Lieutenant Blake?” Will’s hoarse voice screams—nothing.

”Yes?” Another hoarse voice answers.

Will stares at the man with frozen eyes. Tom was right, his brother and him are almost completely identical had not age parted them. The taller looks straight into the Lieutenant’s eyes, seeing the same exact thing he was infatuated with Tom’s.

It’s so beautiful that it almost makes Will break.

Nothing but pure sadness engulfs Will when the excitement and joy on the older Blake’s face dies. It’s almost as if replaying Tom’s death. Nevertheless, Will proceeds to tell him Tom was a brave, great man even if it keeps shattering what is left of his soul.

”Have someone see your wounds,” Joe finally says, lips quivering and eyes shut.

Will stares down at him and says nothing more, leaving to wander off somewhere until he finds a familiar spot in the open field—a single, thin tree. With weak hands he sits down and remains quiet.

A hand reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out pictures of his daughter and his wife. It says, “ _come back to us”._

Will’s eyes slowly close as he lowers them to his lap. His mind slowly drifts off as so his body, trying to find the same relaxation he felt yesterday morning, but it’s not found just yet.

Something compels him to open his eyes, and when he does his mouth slowly parts.

A man of good stories with an unnecessary, cheerful grin in the mist of bloody screams, and those beautiful eyes that somehow resemble the sky—

Tom Blake.


End file.
